No Such Thing as a Normal Day in Kembleford
by Stagenameblue
Summary: sullivan/sid fic, i suck at writing summaries, very sweet and romantic, rated T because I know some oarents don't want their kids reading fanfic about gay people before they've had a chance to talk. please read!
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! So, if you are aware, I have made a fic before, but I abandoned it because it wasn't good. This is my chance at redemption, I'll try to post about once a week. I'm so excited about this fic! Peace love and respect to you all!

3 Blue

It was a normal day, if there was such a thing in Kembleford. The sky was a perfect blue. The clouds were a fluffy white. Economy was down, murder rates were up, and Inspector Sullivan was waiting to use the telephone booth. He sat down on a nearby bench and sighed, rubbing his temples. Today had been one of the rare days that not a single crime had been committed, but that didn't mean rest for the Inspector. Mrs. McCarthy had lectured him about sloppiness for nearly a half-hour. The secretary, Ms. Knott, had accidentally thrown away a _very_ important file, the baker, Daniel Picotti, had burnt a finger of an employee who was now trying to sue, and Lady Felicia had shamlessly flirted and gotten no response. And to top it all off, Sidney Carter had been standing in the telephone booth for twenty minutes.

Sullivan knocked on the door, and Sid gave him an incredulous look. He hung up the phone, exaggerating his movements, and opened the door with a slam.

"_What_?" he asked.

"You've been on the phone for twenty minutes."

"That must mean it's important!"

Sullivan rolled his eyes. "Or that granny takes forever to say goodbye."

Sid grimmanced, offended. "Who are you calling anyway? Scotland Yard? It seems that important, the way your actin'."

"What if I was calling Scotland Yard? Or the prime minister to wish him a happy birthday?"

Sid stepped out of the booth and put his finger on the Inspector's chest.

"You know what your problem is? The second you see someone, you decide you hate them. Or you'll just assume your better than them, just because you're a copper."

"There are worse jobs than policeman. I could be a _chauffeur_. And I don't hate you." the inspector said, moving his finger off of his chest. "And I don't think I'm better than you."

"You literally just insulted me for being a chauffeur, mate."

"You insulted me for being a policeman, _mate_. That doesn't mean I think I'm better than you!" he was shaking his head at this point. "I actually rather like you. You are loyal, more so than anyone _I've _ever worked with."

Sid leaned back a little, clearly surprised.

"Was that a compliment, Inspector?"

"Yes, now don't let it get to your head."

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't hate you either."

"Good," the Inspector said gruffly.

"And I don't think anyone else does either," Sid retorted.

"Especially Lady Felicia," Sullivan muttered.

"Really, mate? If you don't want to be hated, you shouldn't take compliments as flirting."

"Who says I don't want to be hated?"

"So you do want to be hated?" Sid said, rolling his eyes.

"What if I do?"

"No one wants to be hated."

"Good point," Sullivan conceded.

"I could even say I liked you, but you'd automatically assume I was flirting." An eye roll.

"Sorry, Carter, I'm taken," he said sarcastically.

Sid shook his head and brushed past the inspector, then jogged to his car, an old, black, slightly beat up thing. He put the key into the ignition, after a moment's hesitation, the car started.

"See you around, mate!" he waved.

_God I hope so_, thought the Inspector. He could pretend all he wanted that he only tolerated the chauffeur, but in reality, he enjoyed every second he spent with Sid. Nothing was ever boring. He could say he felt the same way about Father Brown, but one of the two men had moral instigations. The other was Sid.

The Inspector entered the phone booth. Huh, that was funny. He forgot who he was going to call.

As Sid drove home, his thoughts turned to the Inspector. He was a funny man. He seemed not to care what anyone thought of him, and only kept to himself. But he cared so deeply about his job, and the Father could see right through him. He told Sid that the Inspector was clearly a good man, who always put the people before himself. And as soon as Father Brown had said that, Sid had noticed it and started to respect the man.

Sid pulled up at his caravan. The caravan was a mess, full of junk from various trips and adventures. But it was home. He valued the caravan above any other material possession in the world. He never told anyone this, but he had never brought anyone to the caravan. He was saving it for someone special. He had thought about bringing Suzie there, but then she was gone, off to Poland to take care of her family. So no one but Sid had entered the caravan. Except the police, but that was something else entirely.

Sid laid down on a blanket he had laid out in the grass. The sky was getting cloudy, a grisly grey. The only colour was a patch of sky some thirty kilometers off. Sid stared at it. He wondered who else saw it.

leave any criticism or compliments u have! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! This chapter is short, I know. Any constructive criticism is, as always, welcome! Please leave a review! I'll shoutout the first few people who do! Peace, love, and respect to you all!

3Blue

Sid was sitting in a bar, late at night. The bar was crowded, men and young ladies filling every table. Loud music was being played, and the lights were dim. Sid was drinking his favorite, a locally brewed IPA.

Sullivan walked in. That was unusual. Sid had been to this bar every night for five years, and not once had he seen the Inspector come in. Back when Inspector Valentine was in charge, he had been a regular at the bar, but never Sullivan.

What was especially strange was that he sat down right next to Sid.

When Inspector Sullivan walked into the bar, he was hoping to see Sid there. He found him easily, alone no less.

"'Spector," Sid greeted him.

"Hello, Sid."

"What's a man like you doing at a bar like this?"

"Drinking is a constitutional right." He looked up at the bartender. "Whatever he's having." he said, gesturing to Sid.

"One that I exercise every day." Sid agreed.

The bartender brought Sullivan his drink, to which he raised to Sid.

The night raged on, strings being plucked by musicians, eventual slight drunkeness setting in to the men's psyche.

"You know," Sid slurred. "I don't know much about you!"

"Wha' you want to you?" Sullivan asked.

"I don't know your name?'

"Richard. Richard James Sullivan."

"Nice to meet you, Ricky. Why did you come to Kembleford? Weren't

you supposed to be a big London policeman?"

"I wanted to get away from my father. He was embarrassed of me."  
"But you're the best policeman we've had!"

"Yes, but all that counts for nothing if you're homosexual." His eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said. "Wait-"

"Mate, you don't need to correct yourself! I like men, too."

"You mean-"

"I'm what you call bisexual? Not a lot of people are, but it means I like gents, like yourself, and girls, like you've seen me with."

"Like myself?" Sullivan (Richard) raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, Sullivan, I'm taken." Sid said, throwing the Inspector's own words back at him.

"Are you now?"

"Are you?"

They sat in silence for a few moments, observing each other. Richard realized that he had almost flirted.

"Now I think it's your turn to tell me 'bout yourself."

'My name is Sidney Carter, no middle name. I was left in front of the church when I was newly born. Father Brown took me under his wing. He raised me."

Richard was surprised.

"I never knew…"

"Ah, don't worry about it, mate. I don't go around broadcasting that information."

"But you told me."

"Like I said. I could say I like you."

"And I could say the same." Sid smiled.

"You know what? Screw could say. I like you."

"Why?" Richard said drily.

"You're not as bad as you seem, Rick."

"I like you, too."

"Glad we're in agreement."


End file.
